Free vorpal plotbunnies to a good home! (or any home for that matter)
by Liath Shadow
Summary: A repository for storychunks that are either too weird, too funny, or just doesn't fit in with any of my regular stories. The plethora of these, honestly, are why it takes so long writing on my regular stories. they are all about as long as these two chapters, and I've got about 300,000 words of these story chunks, lost throughout my archive hard drives.
1. Interesting Wards

Free vorpal plotbunnies to a good home (or any home for that matter)

A repository for storychunks that are either too weird, too funny, or just doesn't fit in with any of my regular stories.

Chapter 1

Ward schemes

Rose Potter finally cornered her father. "Dad, you said you would tell me when I graduated school. Well, I've graduated now, and I'm going for my transfiguration masters. So tell me, why did Mom divorce Uncle Ron?"

Harry sighed, and shook his head, "You know, I thought you'd have figured it out while you were still in school. But apparently the new ward scheme has fixed that particular problem."

Rose rolled her eyes, "Yeah, yeah, you know the wards were redone after you left. From what Mom says, you were the one who rebuilt them!"

Harry grinned, "Yes, yes I did. Well, one particular ward was very particular. And there was a rule at school that was actually based around that ward."

Rose grimaced, "I swear, it's like pulling teeth getting answers from you, Dad. Tell me already!"

Harry sighed, "Okay fine, ruin your father's fun. Well, the rule was simple, but confusing. It was actually the rule in the short Hogwarts sex education class, and it went like this. Don't do it. And if you do do it, don't get pregnant. If you get pregnant, it's your own fault. Especially if you're a boy."

Rose raised an eyebrow, "That…doesn't make much sense. Boys can't get pregnant."

Harry just smiled, "You'll figure it out." And then walked up to his study.

Two hours later, Harry burst out laughing as he heard his daughter scream, "Oh EWWWWW!"

Rose burst into the room shortly after, demanding, "Who else should I avoid?"

Harry ticked off his fingers, "Well, you know about Hugo, Scorpius is safe, but most people in Slytherin aren't. Oh, and your cousin Danielle."

Rose raised an eyebrow, "But isn't Danielle Uncle Fred's daughter?"

Harry nodded, "Yes, she is. Thing is, the ward worked even if one side decides against it halfway through. Danielle's mother still loved him though, so they're still together."

Rose wrinkled her nose, "Yeah no. I think I'm going to find some nice muggleborn to live with. Maybe a girl."

Harry nodded, "Whatever floats your boat, dear."


	2. Dementor prince

Many people have heard the tale of the frog prince, a princess kissing him turns him back into a prince.

Many have also heard of the swan princess, doomed to live as a swan until the kiss of her prince.

Here is a different story

* * *

Chapter 2

The dementor prince

Harry ran from the dementors, chivvying his cousin ahead of him. "Keep moving Dudley, run straight home!"

Harry's reward for being so helpful, was his cousin reaching back and punching him in the chest. Harry collapsed, with no breath left in him, and his cousin ran (or lumbered) away.

This is it then, harry thought. About to have my soul sucked out by these monsters, just like they wanted to do to my dogfather.

Harry's remaining breath was wasted on laughs over his poor, and poorly timed joke. He looked up to see the cowl of the dementor closing in on him, their mouths only an inch apart.

Well, life, it was nice knowing you, Harry thought.

Then he realized he could still think, and the mouth fastened on his was much softer than he was expecting. The cold wasn't nearly so oppressive as before either. The first dementor leapt back, and the second one did like the first, latching onto his mouth with the speed reserved only for starving waifs jumping after food.

Still Harry could think, and then he was surprised at the tongue probing at his mouth.

"Hey, stop it! I didn't slip him tongue!" Harry looked up at the girls voice. The cowl had slipped down from the first dementor, showing a brunette with dark brown eyes, on a face that looked much too young to be a centuries old dementor.

"You snooze, you lose," replied another female voice. Harry then saw into the hood, noticing that before where there were only a skeletal face with lips, now there was a blonde girl with sparkling blue eyes. "My prince, however shall I thank you?"

"Uh, let me get back to you on that," Harry replied, falling in a faint.

"You broke him!"

* * *

I may just be continuing this story, just because it seems worth the giggles, but it's up here for now, for grabs, for anyone else who likes it.


	3. Section Thirteen (M)

This story chunk is called section thirteen. There is a section in the middle marked interlude. If you are underage, SKIP THAT SECTION as it has a mature and honestly gross subject.

Chapter 3

Section Thirteen

KEY plotpoints: magical world is known in the normal world, police departments at least. any unexplained problem where the documentation suddently stops is attributed to 'section 13'

where the documentation is written by an officer, signed by that officer, but the officer does not remember a thing. audio logs from an officer investigating a crime, and the officer doesn't remember the crime nor the logs

Harry is thought to be in the 'witness protection program' from section 13. ANY time anyone mentiones 'section 13' everyone says "There is no section 13" and then continue as if it were real

Scene start

"Well, hello there!"

"Hello mister officer policeman sir."

"What are you doing outside this late at night?"

I look up at the bobby, "I'm trying to catch moonbeams, sir." with all the seriousness that a ten-year-old can muster. which is a lot, when you think about it.

"Why would you be doing something like that?" The bobby comes a bit closer, looking at the glass jar in my hands, which is already glowing a little bit from the captured moonbeams.

"Well, I'd really really like to have some light in my room, and uncle doesn't want to put a light in, so I'm trying to make my own."

Theofficer smiles, "I see. And isn't catching moonbeams impossible?"

I grin, "It's not impossible until you try and fail. And you never know what's impossible until you really try, right?"

the officer nods, "Very true. Where would your room be if you need such a interesting light?" he eyes my more-than-slightly too large for me clothes

"I'm not supposed to say, sir. Uncle says I'm bad if I tell, and he hits me when I'm bad."

"What constitutes being 'bad'?" the officer asks me

"Well, the _real_ bad stuff is when I do weird things, like this," I wiggle my quarter full bottle of moonbeams, "that supposedly aren't normal. The fake bad stuff is when he blames me for things that I didn't do, like stuff from work and stuff."

"Interesting. Why don't you tell people when he hits you for stuff that isn't your fault?" The man is looking a little bit upset, although he's possibly very upset and is hiding it pretty well.

"Well, when I told before, people tried to take me away, but then other people took me back and everyone forgot everything. So I don't really see the point anymore."

The man winces, and then quietly asks, "Have I asked you stuff like this before?" When I nod, he sighs, "Okay, if I forget again, next time you see me, tell me that Section Thirteen got to me. Can you remember that?"

I nod my head emphatically, then he pulls out a small tape recorder, "I'm going to record the rest of this, just so that we have something this time. Now, do you know why you keep being brought back to this place?"

I look around, then wiggle closer to him. He obliges and moves up closer, bringing the tape recorder up close so it can hear as well, "I'm supposed to be here for my protection, supposedly. The mean man who killed my parents had a bunch of friends, and I'm hiding from the mean man and his friends too."

The bobby nods, "Okay, so if you are hiding, why are your clothes so big? Wouldn't that just make you stand out more?"

I shrug, still whispering, "Uncle thinks that me getting a roof over my head is more than enough. He doesn't like giving me food or anything. He even complained when I had to get a checkup from the nurse at school."

"Okay, before I go, I'd like to do two things. First, I'll give you my name, and please call me this next time you see me, okay?" I nod, and he continues, "My name is Mister Farthington. The next thing is…can you tell me your name and your uncle's name too?"

"Well, my uncle is Vernon Dursley, and my school teacher said that my name is Harry Potter."

"Very well Mister Potter, thank you for this talk, and I will hopefully see you tomorrow, or within a week if those people make me forget again." I cock my head to the side, and he grins, "We've got methods to get around things like that. If I remember, I'll tell you next time."

I grin, and then nod, "Okay Mister Farthington. Take care!" I wave as he leaves.

End of Scene.

"Stenarson, report!"

"Well, talked with the kid, he's not a runaway, and it looks like he's in the witness program for Section Thirteen."

"There is no Section Thirteen."

"Exactly sir. Anyways, the kid is being mistreated pretty badly, so we might want to put his apparent aunt and uncle under observation for now. Name is Vernon Dursley. Kid is named Harry Potter, and it looks like he's going to go Thirteen any time now."

"What makes you say that, officer?"

"Well, the kid is bottling moonbeams for a nightlight. Succeeding too, and he might have given me an insight into the way Thirteen works. I'll record it and I want it in all the safe drops if possible."

"I see. If the kid's insight works?"

"Then he may have given us the key to getting around all those memory blocks that Thirteen throws around, and we might be able to get our officers back off of desk duty and get some of the Thirteen files back out of storage."

"Understood. I want the insights on my desk in fifteen minutes if they aren't already recorded, and if they are I want them down in the duplicators yesterday."

"Can do, sir!"

"Dismissed."

Mid-scene endscene.

"Stenarson, in my office!"

"What's the problem chief?"

"Why is there a recording on my desk with you talking to a kid, and why did you call yourself Farthington?"

"Talking with a…that fits in with a report on my computer sir, where I was talking with a Harry Potter. And the Farthington is the name of my neighbour. Mind like a broken seive. It's a message to myself that I forgot something, and need to pay attention."

"Message to…you've been hit by Section Thirteen."

"There is no Section Thirteen."

"Exactly. Also on the recording is some information in your voice regarding impossibilities being in the mind, and if you don't know it's impossible, it could be possible if you try anyways."

"Sounds like a good way to get around the memory blocks that Thirteen uses, sir."

"You got that right. From the time you said you recorded this, they must have gotten here right after you delivered it, because as far as I remember, I was talking with my wife for the last hour, not you."

"So should I keep an eye on the boy?"

"Well, it seems you've already promised mister Potter that you would. On the other hand, you did say it could be up to a week, so for the next couple days I want you to look into the finances of this Dursley fellow. If the boy is in the witness protection program, then he should get a bit more food and clothes than he apparently is getting."

"Roger that sir."

"Also,"

"Yes, sir?"

"I want you to keep a running audio log for now. There might be more than we can see here, and Section Thirteen couldn't have just hit us because you talked to the boy. They took a bit too long for that. We'll need to find out what they are trying to protect."

"Roger that sir."

"Dismissed."

\- interlude SKIP IF YOU ARE YOUNG OR EASILY GROSSED OUT! -

Jack "Flash" Stenarson, 32 year old police officer. had a wife for four years, and a child of two years as of two years previous. For the final two weeks of the marriage his daughter didn't come home for dinner or bed, she was supposedly off visiting friends

when he called the friends' parents, the daughter was never there, and hadn't been for a while. when his wife was arrested, they found evidence of child pornography on her computer, as well as the makings of a snuff film. starring his daughter.

Jack was in councilling for over a year before he was alowed back on the beat again, and he holds a VERY personal hate-on for anyone abusing children, as well as people who steal from companies and/or children

his callsign was originally because everyone thought he was a 'flash in the pan' bright for a short time, then gone

after his personal horror, though, he's still called flash. As in 'he's on them in a flash'. Any signs of abuse is almost guaranteed to set him off, with SWAT teams in tow

for the last two years, he has a bi-yearly 'outing' where he spends a week with his pictures of his daughter. and the final pictures and movie of her life.

the timestamps on the pictures and movie are all from the same day, two weeks before his wife was imprisoned. He keeps asking himself 'why?', both for allowing those black-cloaked men to have their way with his daughter, as well as asking why his wife insisted, until the last few minutes of HER life, that nothing happened, that she didn't do anything.

and when she was confronted with the pictures, she started saying 'no no no' and screamed like a lost soul on seeing the movie of herself killing their daughter

and how blood poured out of her eyes and ears as she screamed herself to death, as their daughter on screen did the exact same thing, with her mother garotting her from behind, facing the camera with a blank look on her face.

They never did find out who this "Lucius" character was.

the last few seconds of the film have two people talking, one being called Lucius, and then a stick being pointed at his wife, starting to glow as a word is started to be spoken, "Obliv..." and static

"special effects" one computer technician says

"disguised flashlight" says another

After talking with Harry, he thinks, and wonders. and dreams.

"Section thirteen."

"There is no such thing."

"Exactly"

\- end interlude -

"Hello Mister Farthington!" I greet as the police officer shows up again, nearly a week after we talked last.

Officer Farthington replies, "Good evening Harry. What's that you're working on?"

I wiggle the jar in my hands, "Uncle broke my last bottle, so I'm trying to fill a new one, but the colour's different this time."

The officer blinks and apologizes, "Sorry, I forgot about the bottle, can you explain it again?"

I nod, "Oh! Sorry, yes it is a week later isn't it? I'm filling the bottle with moonbeams for a nightlight. But they're all pink right now, and they were silvery last time."

He frowns slightly, "Oh, that's too bad. Did it disappear quickly?"

I shrug, "Not really. It took about five minutes to go away. I wonder what the different colour means though."

The officer grins, "well, it's a different phase of moon right now, and it's looking a bit pink, so the moonbeams being pink would make sense to me."

I nod, "yeah, that does make sense."

Officer Farthington brings out his tape recorder again, "Is it okay if I record this conversation again, please?" he looks around for the people who apparently obliviated him.

"Of course! You recorded it last time and you remembered me this time so I think it's okay if you remember with other methods."


	4. Real Life Superheros

This chapter is both connected to, and not connected to, the previous story chunk

By itself, it is just a random thought

However, connected to the previous chapter, it could be summed up as "Section 12" or "Real life superheros, and REAL LIVE superheros"

putting it in as just real life superheros though

Chapter 4

Real Life Superheros

"Tell me you have a twin sister."

"Why?"

"Because I absolutely refuse to believe there's only one such beauty in the world as you."

Hermione rolls her eyes, "What a corny line."

I sigh, "I'm sorry, Hermione, I'm going to have to trade you in for you rmom."

"WHAT?" Hermione's screech comes very close to shattering my eardrums

"Well, you see," I explain, "It's that your mom is an evil genius!"

"I'm a genius too, you know! A damned good one!"

I nod frantically, "Yes, you are! and that's the problem!" Hermione eyes me skeptically, although there's a whole bunch of fury hiding behind her eyes as well, "You see, she's an _evil_ genius. meaning that she knows one of the world's inherent truths, that you can't believe in."

"That so called 'truth' being?"

"That more often than not rules get in the way of saving the world."

Hermione's mom grins, "I like him, I think I'll keep him."

"MOM!"


	5. Dementor Prince part 2

Chapter 5

Dementor prince part two

Harry woke to the feeling of kissing on his forehead. The sound of two girls talking to each other seemed off. Wasn't he just kissed by a Dementor? Wasn't that supposed to, like, kill him? Wait, there's another kiss to his forehead.

"No, I'm pretty sure it tastes like a banana split. I haven't had one of those in so long!" How could his forehead taste like banana anything? He'd never had a banana in his life!

Oh, there's another kiss. "And I'm sure it tastes like fresh cherry pie. Black cherry, with a hint of ice cream."

And another kiss, first voice though. "Well, we both taste ice cream...is it possible there's more than just the one there?"

"Excuse me," Harry mumbled, "But what on earth are you talking about?"

"Oh!" exclaimed the first voice, "We're just tasting that second soul you have laying around. It's not like you need it after all, and we've been really hungry waiting for you to wake up."

Harry grumbled, "Any how can you tell it's not my soul you're taking sips of?"

"Good point!" the second voice replied happily, and Harry again experienced a full fledged kiss on his mouth, complete with tongue exploring his teeth. After the kiss was over, the second voice continued, "Okay! Our prince is the nice ice creamy one!"

Harry opened his eyes, noting that somehow night had fallen while he was asleep. How's that for irony for you. Two girls were crouched over him, their very long hair brushing against the ground.

The brunette girl kissed his forehead, and he could almost hear a whimper in his mind as she did so. She was apparently the second voice, because she said shortly after, "Yeah, I'm still tasting fresh cherry pie."

The blonde girl grinned and kissed Harry full on the mouth. How very warm, Harry thought idly, his brain feeling rather fuzzy from all the kisses. She also kissed his forehead right after, and commented, "While he's very ice creamy, it's a different ice cream. I'm tasting strawberry from the second soul, plus the bananas. He's more of a vanilla. A nice creamy french vanilla."

Harry mumbled, "Never had ice cream in my life. And the only french I know is a veela whose sister I saved."

Harry noticed that two of the stars overhead seemed to be moving in odd ways, "What are those?"

"Happy thoughts," Said the blonde.

"Loving thoughts," Said the brunette.

"Patronuses," they said together.

Harry rolled his eyes, "Are you twins by any chance?"

They both grinned, "Absolutely!" The blonde continued, "I'm Anastasia. She's Annabelle. We were princesses a long time ago, before we were cursed by an evil wizard."

Annabelle continued, "And the kiss of our prince was to save us. YOU saved us!"

Again together, "Our prince!"

Deciding enough was enough, Harry fainted again.

"Stop breaking him!"

"It was your fault this time!


	6. Dementor Prince part 3

part three

(if there's one more part for this then I'll just story it)

* * *

Again Harry woke up. He was pretty sure he was dead, there were dementors kissing him before…

No wait, the dementors were girls. Twin girls, mind you. He opened his eyes...and wasn't he in the city before?

"You're awake! He's awake!" That would be...blonde hair, blue eyes, yeah that's Anastasia.

"Oh gosh I'm glad you're awake, we are starving here and we had to run because those wizards and witches were casting spells at us and it was getting scary and we couldn't leave you,"

"and we really are hungry and everything keeps running away from us and licking that soul in you is just making us hungrier and we don't recognize anything,"

"and we ran to the forest with you but it's a small forest and there are these weird buildings all over the place,"

"And can you help please?"

Harry closed his eyes, and quietly asked, "Are you doing the back and forth talking on purpose?"

Annabelle had the graciousness to look embarrassed, "We aren't used to breathing, we did without it for like forever. Ever since that wizard cursed us."

Harry nodded, "Right then. Let's find out where we are and…"

A glowing white spell whipped past Harry, twice around the clearing, then stopped. The spell appeared to be in the form of a white pony, although the design of balloons on the pony's rear flank was rather cute. From the pony's mouth, Harry heard a female voice, "Harry! Harry are you there? Please be alive! The dementors ran away with you and we couldn't keep up while casting spells. Please be okay Harry!"

Harry muttered, "I'm perfectly fine right now. Glad to know you were willing to save me from the dementors after I was kissed. Quite all right, nothing to worry about. I'm just starving, and so are they."

The spell pony reared on its back hooves, and raced away, back the way it came.

"Um, that was," Started Anastasia.

"A patronus," Annabelle continued.

"It talked!" they chorused

Harry shrugged, "Not that I'm one to complain, but let's find some food."

Harry led the two girls out of the forest...into a park not far from Privet Drive. He then led them towards his family's house. The white pony glittered beside him again. "Just stay where you are, Harry! We'll save you!" and then poofed away.

Harry rolled his eyes, "Stay where I am. in the middle of a street, with cars everywhere, yeah right no. Come on, let's go."

Anastasia whispered, "What is a car?"

Annabelle asked, "And what are those sleeping things?"

Harry grinned, still walking, "Those 'sleeping things' as you call them, are cars. And they are like carriages, but horseless."

Anastasia whispered, "Why are there so many? Is everyone here royalty?"

Harry chuckled, "No, these are owned by regular people. Everyone has cars now a days."

Annabelle grinned, nudging him, "Then why do we not take yours?"

Harry shook his head, "Only adults have them. They require skill to drive, which I do not have. Anyways, we're...right. They locked the door on me. As per usual."

"What are we to do then?"

"We're so hungry~"

Harry sighed, "Well, we can sit here and wait until someone...oh look, there's an owl."

True enough, a rather official looking owl swooped down, dropped the letter it had in its claws, and then flew off as fast as its wings could go.

Annabelle pouted, "It's been a while since we had owl,"

Anastasia sighed, "Longer for me. They don't have much soul in them."

Harry opened the letter, and groaned, "So, apparently, I'm now kicked out of school for magic I didn't cast. Wonderful. Maybe something can go right for me? for once? please?"

Anastasia pouted, "Aren't we right for you?"

Annabelle pouted as well, "We'll stay with you forever!"

Harry just sighed and hung his head.


	7. Skitter and Potter

I had been in prison for two whole days before I found out that there was another powered individual inside. The boy had scruffy hair, wore glasses, and no one ever went near him. I couldn't even ask the other inmates about him because they avoided me as well.

My musing on how to get the attention of the boy was interrupted, surprisingly, by the boy himself.

"So, what are you in for?" he asked me. He had a slightly husky voice, with a cultured, almost British accent.

"Don't you pay attention to the news?" I reply acerbically.

The boy shrugged with a sad smile, "I'm not allowed near the Telly. They don't allow power uses in here, and apparently they consider electronics messing up around me a power."

I blinked, then nodded, "Ah. The name's Skitter. Well, Weaver now. I'm in because I took over a city when the police and hero's didn't step up in time."

The boy blinked, "Oh! I think I remember that. One of those world ending monsters attacked right? Levi-something-or-other."

I rolled my eyes, "Leviathan. And yes. The hero's honestly did their best, but they just couldn't keep things safe. So...the villains under me took over the city to make sure that the civilians remained safe."

The boy nodded, "Ah, one of those heroic villain types."

I smirked, "Yeah, something like that. So, what are YOU in for?"

The boy sighed, "Nothing so glorious as your incarceration, I believe. I'm in for supposedly murdering the head of the ministry. What I'm really in for, is for saving the ministry's collective arses from a terrorist who declared himself a lord, who had managed to resurrect himself from death after failing to kill me as a baby. He died back then too."

I snickered, "Somehow, I don't believe a word you said just now. I never heard of any of this in the news."

The boy nodded, "Of course not. I come from a hidden world of witches and wizards."

I rolled my eyes yet again, "And do you have any proof of that? Magic doesn't exist. Just superpowers. And if you have a superpower, how did you get them?"

The boy sighed, "Of course you don't believe me. Neither did the bobbies, which is why I ended up in jail, and then when they found out that televisions break up around me, they moved me here, because the loony bin doesn't do anything for supposed powered people. Thing is, I'm not super anything. I'm just me."

I sighed, "So, if you're not super anything, what CAN you do with your so called magic?"

The boy grinned, "Well, I can make lights, float things. Transfigure things, make glowing stags. Magic things."

I rolled my eyes, "And every single one of those can also be done by super powered people. Maybe not all at once, but still."

The boy coughed, "Yeah. Thing is, everyone in the society I was in could do all this. Plus, we've been around for over a thousand years. Didn't the super hero thing only start like thirty-odd years ago?"

I sighed, "And you have nothing to prove your point. Still haven't convinced me. And aren't you going to tell me your name? It's only polite, I told you mine."

The boy grins, and holds out his hand, "The name's Potter. Harry Potter. Also known as the boy-who-lived."


	8. That Plastic Smile Intro

The last thing that I remember…

No wait, scratch that. The FIRST thing that I remember is waking up after falling asleep beside my wife. Married for eight years, and planning for a child in the near future. "Love you, sweet dreams," were the last words on my lips.

My dreams weren't so sweet. Hard to breathe, everything blurry, and someone screaming "Don't leave me!"

And then I woke up!

Everything looked different when I did finally open my eyes. A cross between blurry colours and sharp bright flashes. My arms feel heavy and tired for some reason, and my stomach feels weird and upset. People are talking around me, though I have no idea what they are saying.

"What's happening?" I try to ask. It comes out odd, though. Wa sappa ing! My tongue feels heavy and underused, or overused. Heavy and, no other way to put it, just downright off.

I hear a high pitched coo, and then one of the blurs comes closer and oh ghoddess I'm surrounded by giants!

The one giant swoops down and picks me up. I wave my hands at...her? My hands seem rather fat. Or pudgy.

Wait. Math time. Fat, can't move, everything heavy, eyes blurry… Oh goddess I've died and been reborn as a baby. I knew it would happen SOME time in my life, but not at thirty six! Heck, for that matter I wasn't expecting to remember ANYthing when I was reborn.

You know what? Screw it. Babies cry and scream all the time. Time to let some emotion out.

My new parents panicked for almost a full hour trying to find out what was wrong with me.

The first week of my new life was mind numbing. Eat, try to crawl, get diapers changed, sleep, wash rinse repeat. Although it was fun watching my mother try to show me how to crawl. From the wall and even ceiling sometimes too, which was weird. Don't they have physics here? Or gravity? I do admit that whenever my mother, and sometimes father, did things weird like that I laughed.

I laughed a lot too, that first week.

My favourite colours are starting to be red. A rich glossy red like my mom's hair. And the green of her eyes. Dad's eyes are a haunting blue, like the blue sky reflected off of snow on the ground at the first sign of spring. I haven't seen Dad's hair yet.

And now I never will.

Mom's face was fearful, that first day of the next week. Dad had not come back from wherever he was, and mom was panicking, rushing around packing clothes and diapers, oh, and me too. I didn't fight her, seeing her so afraid like she was. I was placed in a carrier, then slung onto mom's front, where I could see her face. Then we were out of the house and she was running.

I remember a lot of sky, during that run. Smoke and birds in the air, leaves just starting to bud on the first trees that passed my sight. I don't know how fast Mom was running, but I do know it was fast, as everything _blurred_. I heard splashes of water, as well. During stretches where I could see the sky (that cloud has been chasing us forever!) each step was a little splish. Splishsplishsplishsplishsplishflutter trees again. In the forest she runs a little bumpy, and I feel the speed going from side to side. Maybe she's jumping through trees?

I fall asleep next to mom. Quiet as a mouse.

When I wake up, even mom is gone. I seem to be wrapped up in a blanket, and hidden in between roots of a tree.

Mom doesn't come back, but I do hear someone walking by, saying something that I can't understand. A specific thing he DOES say catches my attention though. "Sukoshi uzumaki dete kimasu." A foot stepped in front of my hiding place, then blurred and disappeared.

More time passed, and I see something else at the entrance to my tree-hole. A dog's nose reaches in, and snuffles at me. I reach out, and touch the nose, and the dog jumps back with a 'yip'. Again the nose comes in, and I blow a raspberry at it. The dog snuffles at me some more, and I pat the nose. After a second I hear some soft barking and whuffing, and then a hand comes in and plucks me out.

I am held up to this person's face. Brown hair. Brown eyes. Oh! I brush my hand down his (her?) red drawings on his (her?) face. "Ma!" The word falls out of my mouth. I can't say much, and I don't know how to say it so that he (she?) can understand me. I can faintly smell a sickly sweet scent, and look off in the direction it comes from.

For all that Red is my favourite colour, I think...it will also be my least favourite colour at the same time. There is my mom's face. My mom's hair.

My mom's heart on the ground, in the center of a shattered skeleton.

All I can hear is screaming, and I know the screaming is mine.

Time passed in a blur. I've been here before, where I don't want to think because it hurts too much. Eat, sleep, sleep, eat. I don't even bother trying to crawl, because crawling reminds me of mom and…

Days, weeks. The air grew warmer, then cooler. Leaves start falling on the ground, but not all of them.

It's another day, evening actually, and the sun is just starting to set. The sky looks like blood, and it hurts to breathe. Screaming and shouting, but I don't think that's me. I hold my hand out, and grasp at the lines of red and blue and green, flashing in the sky. People run around me, knives, swords in hand, jumping impossibly high. I look around, and I'm the only one left in the grass. Playground. Everyone else is inside, but for the jumping people.

I stand up, and someone jumps THROUGH me. I look down. Oh, there's my body. So tiny. So fragile. Red hair, with little tufts of a blue-white, so like dad's eyes. One eye green, one eye that same haunting blue. I walk towards the fight. Because if I'm dead already, no reason to not watch everything.

I finally get close to the fighting, and see a huge fox. Several storeys high, with nine tails thrashing around. Green and blue and red and white flashes, and chains of green. I step closer and touch the green. It feels calm. Sturdy. Like the bones of the earth itself, holding down the raging fire of hate. And I touch the red. Anger, pain, fury, fear. So much emotion. I know it doesn't do any good, but I wrap myself around the ankle before me. The tears I held so long, leak out of me.

I miss my wife. I miss my new mother. I miss my father.

I pour all my sorrow into the foot, and the fighting around slows.

The growls and roars soften. And I hear almost a whimper.

The red disappears. And the green. And the blue and the white and the yellow and brown I didn't see before.

Even as I fade away, I see what looks like ice on the ground beneath me.

I wake up again. Surprised that I am waking up at all, to be honest. Someone must have stepped on my baby body during the fight, yet I don't feel any pain at all. I DO feel cold, however, even with the blankets around me.

"We don't know how old it is." A voice. Somehow I'm understanding the words, at least a little. Maybe being immersed in the language helps? I don't know. "It was brought to us by an Inuzuka nin, in early spring. From the size, it might be only just older than that. It doesn't do anything though. It just sits where we put it. It doesn't even cry when dirty or hungry."

Another female voice snarls, "It it it, why do you keep calling the child it?"

The matron kindly replies, "Because boys are boys, and girls are girls, and it is neither, and both."

The second female growls. Actually growls! "Then I will take the child from your hands. Does she at least have a name?"

The matron again replies, "Not one that it responds to."

I breathe, then say, "Gure."

The woman nods. "Gure it is then. Come here, Gure-chan. Let's go home." Her hair, it looks like mom's. I crawl out of the blankets, and crawl towards the woman. She picks me up out of the bed, and I run my fingers through her hair. "Ma," I whisper.

The matron breathes, "That's the most the child has ever said since it arrived."

The red haired woman nods, "Then it is a good thing I came here then. I need to take her to the hospital."

The matron blinks, "Why? Why would you need to, it's perfectly healthy, just cold."

The woman shakes her head, and replies, "Because healthy or not, she IS cold. Ice cold. I don't usually expect a baby of any age to be dripping ice down my back."

I stop listening as I play with the hair in front of me. Three strands I pull out of the mess. Over under around twist. Like the braid I remember in moms hair, I continue weaving until I am pulled away. I don't pay attention as people around me talk and poke at me.


End file.
